What are content warnings or trigger warnings? They are statements made at the front of a work of prose or a poem, stating topics or language that might be employed in the work. This is to offer readers a choice. Topics can be wide-ranging; sexual violence, sexual exploitation of children, physical violence, torture, misogyny, racist or sexist language and suicide are topics I’ve seen given content warnings.
Content warnings and trigger warnings have been painted as an extreme reaction, a silly (or dangerous) over-engineering designed to protect a few “special snowflakes” who can’t take the heat and should stay out of the kitchen. For me, content warnings grew directly out of the internet. (The one “content warning” no one seems to complain about—NSFW, or Not Safe For Work, on various images or videos, is a warning that has probably saved people’s jobs.)
The first place I saw fiction content warnings wasn’t from the publishing world—it was from reader reviews on Amazon and Goodreads. Here’s the first “content warning” I remember ever seeing:
“CANCER BOOK! Why didn’t anyone tell me this was a CANCER BOOK! I never would have started it.” (Reader review on Amazon.)
Here’s another, from Goodreads, a long time ago: “Don’t read this THE DOG DIES!!!”
Although these come from readers, not writers or publishers, these are clearly content warnings, and angry ones. These commenters are not happy readers.
In almost every one I saw, the capital letters and exclamation points were followed by some version of “I hated this book.” It doesn’t seem like the reviewer is saying the book was badly written. They hated it because it was a “cancer book” and they hadn’t known that. They felt blindsided and betrayed by the book. And maybe, if they were engaged at the start, they even felt hurt.
Someone living with cancer, or who lost a loved one(s) or a friend(s) to cancer might not want to dive into a book where characters die of cancer. Or at least, they may not want to right now.
A content warning gives a potential reader a heads-up and lets them make a choice.
As a reader, I consider content warnings in the same category as the back-jacket copy and the blurbs. This is story-adjacent information –perimeter information, so to speak– that helps me decide if I want to read it. Rarely will a content warning stop me from reading a book, but honestly, sometimes it will make me decide to delay reading it. That’s helpful consumer information.
As a writer, I want everyone to read and enjoy my books. (I know that’s not realistic but that’s what I want.) And notice the plural of “books” in that previous sentence. I want them to read and enjoy the one they’re holding. And I want them to read and enjoy the next one, and the one after that if there is one.
I don’t want to invite someone into my book and immediately slap them across the face. That’s not only rude, it’s bad business. If they feel betrayed and hurt by their first experience with my work, they’re not going to come back.
Might they feel that way anyway, for some other story-based reason? Absolutely, and I can’t control that. I fasten my seatbelt when I get into a car. I don’t think that’s going to improve the performance of drivers around me. I lock my house when I leave it with no expectation that property crime rates will immediately plunge. I do those things because they are prudent. They reduce risk. As a writer, including a content warning if one’s needed is reducing the risk of driving away readers.
If one of my books featured a character dying of cancer, would I start with a content warning about it? Hell, yes.
Comeuppance Served Cold has a content warning. The book has ethnic slurs which are historically accurate, and may hurt modern readers. I completely stand by my use of them in the book—I’m writing about an actual period in time. And I think letting people know that the book contains racist and misogynist language is wise. At my editor’s suggestion, I also included the phrase “ableist language,” because of things people say to and about the blind character Gabe.
Some people may shy away from the book after they read the warning. I understand. They might take a chance on another book of mine, though. They may be going through something right now that makes them feel they don’t want to take on active racism in an escapist book just yet. Maybe they’ll circle back to it in a few months.
If a publisher advertises that they don’t use/won’t allow content warnings, that’s content warning enough for me. If they won’t let me judge my own work at that level, what other editorial demands are they going to make? What other kinds of choices are they going to take away from me, the storyteller?
Anyway, that’s my opinion. I want to close with the best and most thoughtful content warning I’ve read so far, by T.J. Klune in his book Under the Whispering Door. The book deals with people after they die—which means it deals with how they died. Here’s his warning, offered as an author’s note:
“This story explores life and love as well as loss and grief.
“There are discussions of death in different forms—quiet, unexpected, and death by suicide.
“Please read with care.”